Soho II, Wulao Hutong, Beijing, China

Soho II, and the 'down-stairs'

The bottom alley-way outside and under our apartment complex is what we have colloquially named the 'down-stairs'. 

Mutually terrified by its exotic foreignness, we regrettably didn't step foot down there for the first 14 days after we moved in, unintentionally avoiding any reason to venture there. Now its over-flowing random clutter, its dirty pots and pans brimming with random edibles and its cases of live animals intrigue us. Only brave enough to wander down together, our presence in the alley never goes unnoticed. Who are these white folk? These lawei. Heads will turn, and sharp eyes quietly follow our movements, as if we were the intriguing sight. Our  alley 'down stairs' is our own little contemporary museum, an insight into real Chinese life. 

The 'down-stairs'

A pot of boiling eggs

Our water delivery 

Looking down the alley

Entrance to 'Down-stairs

'Following the seven small steps down into the alley in the morning, past the water trailer, your nose is first assaulted by the yeasty meaty steam of fresh dumplings, cooking on top of each other in a stainless steel pan on a little coal fire. The fresh sticky white bread dumplings are prepared on a small meat-caked wooden two-by-four every morning, mixing the pink pork mince by hand.

Later in the evening, the area transforms into a skewered kebab stand with only enough room for one chef, who, with coal blackening his hands, cooks thin strips of meat over red hot smoking coals. We can't read the menu but the 'meat' ranges in what looks like cartilage, knuckle joints, fish, livers, and other things we would never have considered cooking. 

'Down-stairs' has a little bit of everything, an industrial dry-cleaners that specialise in green medical uniforms, two fruit and vegetable shops strategically placed aside each other in the middle of the alley, a tidy looking hair-dressers that also sell goldfish, five small restaurants that serve Northern Chinese dishes, a dark and dingy copy store and two multi-purpose get-a-little-bit-of-anything-and-everything shops. 

Walking down the alley, can be initially overwhelming. Focusing on not drawing further attention to yourself, while looking in the windows and walking around plastic tables that litter the path can mean you miss the orange wobbly tiles which bring forth a spray of black colored sludge water, showering over the leg of your pants. Tiny gutters carved hap-hazzardily into the ground, low hanging clotheslines or broken broomsticks are all potential hazards. 

At the furthest end of the alley under a broken and bent umbrella one of the small unsanitised restaurants sell live fish, which they keep in big buckets of cold bubbling water outside. We have watched in awe as our neighbours ordered dinner: before you realise what's happening the selected fish is plucked from its plastic home, whacked across a steel bin, bamm the heads off, swish swish, scales removed. "Hao, Hao" Very good, within seconds the transactions done then everyone's off on their way, leaving us to giggle nervously.

Live fish- waiting to be chosen

Pork airing? or drying?

Duck eggs! 

Speckled goose eggs!

Storage area

What's the most interesting and unusual part is that what seems to be a chaotic unhealthy mess is just that each shop does not seem restricted by its walls. With entire families living in the back of the shops, the alleyway seems to be a useful extension of the shop and family home. The public 'down-stairs' area is used not only to store the restaurants' newly-delivered produce but anything else they fancy. Small bicycles, magazines on rusty racks, clotheslines covered in delicates or even grandma out on the dust covered couch. Outdoor dining is very popular and throughout the day and well into the night the small alley is littered with fold-up tables; patrons spilling out of the restaurants leaving their glass bottles and napkins on the ground for someone to clean up... tomorrow.

There seems to be no quiffs about the hairdressers setting up shop outside in the afternoons and letting long black hair blow into neighbouring restaurants next door. Men with missing teeth sit outside chain smoking, dangling the cigarettes from between the gaps, betting on cards while oblivious to their pant-less grandchildren releasing their bowels 'down-stairs'. Children cycle up and down chasing each other around in circles or lie stretched out colouring books and entirely toothless grandmothers bring out their washing in plastic buckets. Along the brick side wall, the alley is littered with boxes, cartons, old chairs, broken motorbikes, bicycle seats, and even pet birds. There's a place for everything.

Most mornings restaurants take their kitchens outside, finding a space on the low brick wall. Chopping up long green vegetables under the hazy Beijing sky, just throwing the prepared produce in big wet buckets on the ground. They bring out large pots and boil eggs in a strange coloured brown water, misting the alley on cold mornings. Sometimes a cook stands next to buckets full of soft boiled purple-white peanuts, selling them by the bag to residents passing by.

Heads of something

Pet birds in their cage, outside

This restaurant does take-away pancakes

What we enjoy the most is quickly glancing into the glass display cabinets outside the noodle restaurants, one at each end. The far side offer all kinds of cooked animal heads and might specialise in savoury pancakes by the looks of their lumpy brown jelly, peeled black eggs, slimy seaweed and salted nuts. Closer to us, the refrigerated glass cabinet is full of bright green broccoli, a dish that looks like bread but smells like garlic and slightly more recognisable foods. Too timid to order yet, we are working on the courage to try the vegetables and what smells like a smoked tofu.

Glass-cabinet salad bar

For now, we have found that one of the beef noodle restaurants has smoky yellow pictures on the wall which are perfect to point at! Hao! Hao!

Tot siens,
John and Kara